On July 21, I’m marrying my best friend. She is the most special woman I’ve ever met. She inspires feelings in me that only great literature and film, and beautiful goals, have inspired before her. As a Christmas gift, I put together a book of original poetry for her. The poem below is one of originals I included in that book. While it is a love poem, it is also a poem about a very special, unmatched love I am fortunate to share with her. I cannot wait to be Haley Miller’s husband.
If You Only Knew
If you only knew the way you make my heart skip
like drummers beating to a different tune,
eyes closed, soaking in the sound,
and it is still beautiful.
I cannot keep in step with you
quickly gliding across the surface
as if it were ice and you were skating away
from the cold,
not quite in rhythm
(I remember to never make you dance).
But you never skate away for long
before my cell phone blinks
and I see the name pop up:
with a text message asking if it’s still on silent
after a missed call,
one of dozens.
When you run
I beat for you,
chasing from behind,
even as I huff—
and you smirk—
as if bodies built for plumbers
could ever keep up with you, gazelle.
I like the music we make,
even if no one else can hear it,
if it’s silent like cell phones blinking,
if it’s loud like the TV screen blaring in the background,
as you roll your eyes;
if you only knew
how much I love the sound of your footsteps
on my front porch,
the way you still knock every time
even if the door is unlocked,
as my doors will always be for you.